


I feel it in my bones

by helicases



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Cuddling, Declarations of feelings, Flirting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Roommates, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-25 21:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18171935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helicases/pseuds/helicases
Summary: you feel like home**Minghao learns this lesson early: Wen Junhui is a huge flirt.Jun learns this lesson early: Xu Minghao is surprisingly easy to fluster, and a flustered Minghao is especially cute. Jun also learns to dodge quickly and efficiently because a flustered Minghao is often an extremely fighty Minghao.





	I feel it in my bones

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you x 10000000 to merryofsoul for the beta and the encouragement. Thank you for suggesting I listen to "Bones" by OneRepublic and Galantis, which made me cry and then helped me find a title. ♡

Minghao learns this lesson early: Wen Junhui is a huge flirt. He says things out loud, in public, and so earnestly that sometimes, Minghao finds himself wishing he could channel the same level of conviction and confidence. Most of the time, he just wishes Jun would show him some mercy. He can't be the only one who feels this way, not when Jun is like this with everyone. 

Today, Minghao is tucked into one corner of their couch, staring at the applications he has to fill out for the upcoming volunteer art and dance workshops. Jun has a matching dance form, but his is complete and has been for at least half an hour now. Minghao's form still has a lot of empty spaces, and they look like they’re mocking him. 

“I understand why they’re asking some of these questions, but others are unnecessary,” Minghao grumbles. 

Jun rolls over on the floor so he can peer up at Minghao. “Which ones are giving you trouble?” he asks. 

Minghao sighs heavily. “So many of them. Like this one—how am I supposed to come up with a list of my best qualities? How do people do this? I can’t think of  _ one _ .”

Jun sits up abruptly. “I can do better than that.”

“Oh no.”

“Pay attention,” Jun chides, holding up both hands. 

“No.”

Jun ignores him. “I’ll start with ten.”

“No,” Minghao squeaks, shrinking further into his corner of the couch, face already heating up. He just wanted to whine a bit and move on, but Jun looks determined to share his list. What's worse is Minghao knows Jun is comfortable enough with him to demand attention if he doesn’t think he’s getting it. 

“You have a great smile. Your nose is cute. You have great hair. You are very fashionable. You’re patient but firm. You’re very funny, even when you’re making fun of me. You are an incredible dancer. You could definitely kick anyone’s ass and that’s hot. Your legs are, quite frankly, offensively long. Your voice is nice. That’s ten.” Jun rattles the list off quickly, curling a finger down to count off each item. “I can go on?”

Minghao’s ears feel like they’re burning. 

“Thanks,” he forces out. “I’m good. Next question.”

**

Jun learns this lesson early: Xu Minghao is surprisingly easy to fluster, and a flustered Minghao is especially cute. Jun also learns to dodge quickly and efficiently because a flustered Minghao is often an extremely fighty Minghao. Some people say Jun lacks a self-preservation instinct, but Jun just knows what he likes. It helps that he also learns quickly when it comes to other people’s boundaries. He pushes, but not too hard. He tries his best not to cross lines. 

Take Yanan, for instance. They are tragically not paired up for one of their labs, and Jun bemoans this loudly to anyone who will listen, but only if Yanan is within earshot. Otherwise, he goes back to quietly studying, which he honestly prefers. He just needs Yanan to know he's appreciated. It’s important to Jun that his friends know he thinks they’re great.

Minghao has joined them in the library between classes, so he gets the brunt of Jun’s complaining today. He bears the burden with only the smallest of grimaces. 

“If I could,” Jun tells Yanan, “I would take you away from your lab partner.”

“You can’t,” Minghao says. He’s not even in their lab, so Jun sticks his tongue out at him. Minghao flips him off and returns to scribbling in his notebook. 

“I would love to work with you,” Jun whines, leaning across his armchair to pat Yanan’s arm. 

It’s endearing, how Yanan keeps meeting Jun’s gaze and then looking away. Jun does his best to make each glance worth it. It’s fun because Yanan, like Minghao, is cute when he’s flustered. 

“Uh.” Yanan clears his throat. “We’ve worked together before and we’ll probably work together again, so it should be fine.”

“Ah, you want to work with me again too?” Jun claps his hands together, genuinely delighted. Yanan reddens further and nervously fiddles with one of his earrings. 

“I just—” Yanan trails off. 

“It’s okay,” Jun says sweetly. “I’ll survive this lab somehow, but you should definitely go to the party next Friday. It’ll be fun. We can dance together.”

Yanan puts his face in his hands. Minghao doesn’t even look up when Jun glances his way to check for his reaction. 

“We can dance,” Yanan says finally. 

“Oh! Really? I’m looking forward to it!” He means it. Jun teases him a lot, but he genuinely likes being friends with Yanan. It’s comfortable and nice, and he's a good dancer. 

“How could I say no?” Yanan says weakly, but he’s smiling in a way which Jun has learned means he’s okay. 

“Easily,” Minghao mutters.

“But I’m not great at rejection, and just…look at him,” Yanan sighs. 

Jun frames his face with his hands and bats his eyelashes the moment Minghao looks up from his notebook. He studies Jun for a minute before rolling his eyes hard.

“I’m looking and I still stand by what I said.”

Jun squashes the voice in his head that says  _ I wish you were  _ really  _ looking _ in favor of slumping back across his chair, reaching out to pat Yanan’s arm again, and saying, “I’ll see you next Friday.”

He hears Minghao’s quiet huff of frustration and squashes any possible reaction to that too. 

**

Minghao takes out his wallet and thumbs through the paper notes in the center pocket. “How much do you want?”

Jun hums, contemplative, and then gives Minghao a Cheshire grin. “I just want you,” he says. 

Minghao plucks out a couple of bills and presses them firmly into Jun’s hand. “Here you go. Bye.”

“Don’t be like that,” Jun whines. 

Minghao ignores how red his ears are probably turning in favor of trying to leave. The faster his exit, the better. Unfortunately, Jun loops an arm around his waist and plasters himself to Minghao’s back. 

“Let go. Take the money and leave,” Minghao protests. His words sound weak even to him, so he pushes at Jun’s arm. That, he can make convincing. 

“I don’t need your money if I have you.” Jun presses their cheeks together, making Minghao squirm. 

“I’ll take the cash back if you don’t let go,” he threatens. 

Jun releases him with a dramatic huff. Minghao mourns the loss of his warmth immediately but feigns relief. He’s good at pretending—being around Jun so often has honed that particular skill to a sharp point. 

“Thank you, Hao,” Jun says to the ground when Minghao turns around. He’s the picture of disappointment, pout out in full force. 

“Stop that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Go away. Go buy food,” Minghao says, rolling his eyes. “Wonwoo is waiting for you at the library. Don’t make him yell in there.”

Jun’s obvious reluctance to leave diminishes as he ponders this. If Wonwoo yells (at Jun, and he might if Jun is late) in the library, he may get kicked out, which will further upset him. They’re meeting up to study in Wonwoo’s favorite library, and getting kicked out will make Wonwoo sad. Minghao knows Jun well—sometimes better than Minghao knows himself—and the moment one of their friends is sad, Jun takes responsibility, either for causing the sorrow or for trying to cheer them up. Jun’s pout becomes a deep frown and Minghao knows he’s won. 

“Okay, I’ll go. Thank you. I’ll miss you, Minghao,” Jun says. “Love you.”

Minghao levels a glare at him, which, unfortunately, just makes Jun brighten up. 

“You have to say it back,” he insists. 

“Goodbye.”

“Where’s your respect for your elders?” 

“Oh, sorry. Goodbye,  _ old man _ ,” Minghao corrects himself. 

Jun laughs and flaps a hand at him. “It’s okay. I know you love me too. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Minghao ignores the stutter step in his heartbeat and waves farewell with exaggerated relief. He also ignores the flying kiss Jun sends his way before he jogs toward food and Wonwoo’s favorite library. He ignores the way his face burns, blush bleeding hot across his cheeks. Minghao’s got a few hours of peace to carefully tuck away Jun’s cheerful “love you.” To bury it deep down so he can go back to not thinking about it.

Minghao’s phone pings as he rounds the corner and he groans. 

**from: jun**

_ miss u already T________T _

He’ll have to bury that too. 

**

Jun gets what he asked for: Yanan does go to the party. But first, he gets something extra that he hadn't considered when getting ready that night. 

Minghao emerges from his room in a pair of jeans that are obscenely tight, with rips at his knees and across the tops of his thighs. Jun can see a lot of skin and it's a lot to process. Maybe too much to process. It's not like Jun has never seen Minghao’s legs before—summers here get hot, sweltering even—but damn, those jeans are nice. He can't decide whether he'd like to thank the designer or curse them. Then Minghao pulls on a dark jacket and sweeps his hair out of his eyes and Jun has to try not to swallow his own tongue. 

“Ready?” Jun asks, determined to keep things under control. He can contemplate the logistics required to place a curse on a fashion designer later. 

“Are you?”

“I’m always ready to party,” Jun says. “I am, as the kids say, a party animal.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “Why do you say these things out loud?”

“Why do you ask questions when you know the answers?”

“Sometimes, I’m waiting for you to surprise me,” Minghao says, shoving Jun out the front door. 

“Well if you want surprises, all you have to do is ask.” Jun waggles his eyebrows. 

Minghao waits for the front door to click shut and then points at Jun. “I pushed you through the door; I can push you down the stairs.”

“You wouldn’t.”

He wouldn’t, but Jun is extra sweet for the rest of the walk to the party. Sweet enough that once they arrive, Minghao mixes his first drink for him, unprompted. 

“This is perfect,” Jun tells him. “You're perfect.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “You’re just too impatient to mix your own drinks right.”

“No, it’s just better when you do it. Like I said, you’re perfect.”

“Shut up. Why don’t you go find Yanan? Didn’t you want to dance with him?”

Jun grins at him over the rim of his cup. “Will you save a dance for me, Minghao?”

Minghao sighs heavily, scanning the crowd. “We’ll see.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

Jun mills around in the kitchen for a bit before going to look for Yanan. He finds him easily, and tosses his now empty cup into a recycling bin tucked against one of the walls. Yanan looks amazing and Jun tells him so, because Yanan needs to know and also because it makes him blush hard. It's not quite as satisfying as making Minghao blush, but it's a good look on Yanan all the same. Jun is aware he's biased, but he's ignoring it and everything is fine. 

“Ready to show the dance floor—and me—your wild side?” Jun asks. 

“It’s nice to see you too. ‘Wild side?’ What was in your drink?”

Jun flaps a hand at him and then extends it, palm up. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Would you like to dance?”

Yanan rolls his eyes, but places his hand in Jun’s. “Sure. I did promise.”

They dance together for several songs and it’s just as fun as Jun expected. One of the new girl group hits comes on and Jun falls into line with Soonyoung and Chan, performing an exaggerated version of the girls’ excellent choreography. Jun catches a glimpse of Minghao in the distance, shaking his head while Soonyoung shakes his ass. That's not strictly part of the original choreography, but Soonyoung is Soonyoung. There's a tiny smile on Minghao’s face, which grows when Soonyoung shouts along to the chorus. Jun turns away to look for Yanan instead, and finds him laughing on the sidelines. 

“Just one more song,” Yanan says once Soonyoung, Chan, and Jun are done. “Then I’m gonna take a break. It’s so hot in here.”

Jun brightens up. “Not as hot as you—”

Yanan shoves at his shoulder. “Stop that or I’ll go outside now.”

“Okay, okay. No problem.”

The tempo of the next song is slower and gives Jun a chance to catch his breath. When it ends, Yanan gives him a one-armed hug and waves as he heads outside for fresh air. Jun gives a little wave back and goes off in search of another drink. This one is stronger than he meant to make it, and he knows he was right: Minghao  _ is _ better at this than he is. He knocks the rest of it back and decides to look for Minghao to tell him that. 

Jun runs into friends from class along the way, some of whom are discussing a drama they’ve been watching recently. Jun perches on the arm of one of their chairs to listen in. He decides he can find Minghao later or Minghao will find him. Jun hopes one of those things happens soon—he's starting to feel a bit of a buzz and that just makes him miss Minghao more. 

“Yeah, and you know that saying?” Zhennan asks. 

“That doesn’t narrow it down at all,” says one of the boys Jun doesn’t know very well. 

“No, no, there’s that saying where—do you know it?” Zhennan turns to Jun. “It goes something like ‘people always see what they have in their heart?’”

Jun nods sagely, placing a hand over his chest, “I have  _ you _ in my heart.”

“Oh my god. Why are you always like this?”

“I say what I mean,” Jun grins. 

“What about Yanan?” Zhennan says, smirking. “Or more importantly, what about Ming—”

Jun gasps and smacks Zhennan’s arm. “How dare you!”

Of course, that’s how Minghao finds him, trying to maintain his precarious perch on the arm of a chair while Zhennan laughs and fends off his attacks. 

“I’m not sure what I expected to see when I ran into you again, but I’m not surprised,” Minghao says. 

“You’re back! He’s impugning my honor and my ability to hold many people in my heart at once,” Jun says. 

Zhennan opens his mouth, undoubtedly to tease him again, so Jun covers as much of his face as he can with one hand. “Shut up, Zhennan. I have a big heart. Ow. He bit me.”

“Again, I’m not surprised,” Minghao says. 

“That I have a big heart or that Zhennan bit me?”

“Sure.”

Jun doesn’t get any clarification from Minghao, but he does get more mixed drinks and a dance before the night is over. Minghao ignores Jun’s pouting and only agrees to dance with him during an upbeat song. Privately, Jun thinks maybe that's for the best; he's not entirely sure how to handle swaying to a ballad with Minghao in his arms. Then Minghao sheds his jacket and Jun thinks maybe dancing with him at all while he's wearing that oversized shirt and those jeans is a mistake. 

When Jun starts to get sleepy-eyed, Minghao tugs him toward the front door by the wrist. They run into another friend on the way out, and Jun makes a quiet, sad noise when Minghao lets go of him to give Jeonghan a hug. He makes a significantly less distressed but no less quiet noise at the look on Minghao’s face when Jeonghan returns his embrace and tries to lift him off the ground. Minghao’s facial expressions are so good.

“Shit, why is this so hard?” Jeonghan huffs, trying once more to lift Minghao. “How are you so dense?”

When Jeonghan looks to him for help, Jun pushes him aside easily and gently. He picks Minghao up and starts carrying him to the door to the sound of Jeonghan’s cheers and Minghao’s low laughter. 

“Please put me down,” Minghao says once they've crossed the threshold. 

“Anything for you,” Jun says, beaming. “Anything at all.” He means it. 

**

Minghao is supposed to be reading, but Jun just got home and Minghao thinks he might die before he gets to finish this novel. 

Jun saunters into their apartment and deposits himself on the rug in the middle of the floor, directly in Minghao's line of sight. He shifts around to keep his hips open before folding himself in half with a soft, pleased noise. Minghao immediately regrets all the times he's scolded Jun for not stretching properly before or after exercise. He's doing an excellent job now and Minghao is suffering the consequences. This is hell. 

Jun adjusts his legs for a different stretch and Minghao tries in vain to ignore how well his track pants, however simple and unassuming they are, show off the contours of his thighs and calves. As he leans forward to touch his toes, Minghao notices with dismay how loose Jun’s shirt is. It's sleeveless and the sides dip lower than they have any right to. No one needs to catch a glimpse of Jun’s chest every time he moves into a different position. Minghao is usually good about ignoring distractions but Jun just…looks good. It's upsetting. 

Jun finishes stretching and flops onto his back, and Minghao finally snaps his eyes back to his book. He manages to read a single page before Jun speaks and distracts him again. 

“How is it?”

Minghao chances another glance at Jun over the top of his novel. His eyes are still closed but now he's starfished out on the rug. Jun scratches idly at his stomach, which rucks up the hem of his shirt. 

“It's good,” Minghao says belatedly, raising his book higher like that will effectively block him from the golden strip of skin exposed above Jun’s waistband. It's too late, though. He's already seen too much. Thankfully, Jun doesn't notice that anything is wrong. 

“Have you eaten yet?” Jun asks. 

“I was waiting for you to get back,” Minghao answers. 

Jun cracks an eye open and smiles, wide and crooked. “That’s sweet.”

“I’m considerate.”

“You’re the best.”

Minghao rolls his eyes, but he's relieved he's back in more familiar, comfortable territory. “Don’t get carried away.”

“Ah,” Jun laughs, sitting up, “but you sweep me off my feet.  _ You _ carry me.”

Minghao stops thinking about Jun’s stupid legs and his terrible shirt and glares at Jun over the top of his book. “I hope you starve.”

**

Jun pulls his keyboard into his lap and turns it on, careful to keep the volume low. Minghao wraps himself tighter in his blanket burrito, leaving only his eyes and the top of his head visible. He looks so tired; Jun would much rather set his keyboard aside and hold Minghao's hand or maybe just hold all of him and pet his hair until he falls asleep. Instead, Jun shakes out his hands and plays the first few notes of a slow, slow jazz song. 

Minghao had asked, in a small voice, if Jun would play him something. “I’m so tired,” he’d said, mouth twisted into a frown like he thought Jun might say no. 

Minghao looked uncomfortable admitting it out loud, but Jun had tutted and herded him into his room, hand at the small of his back, pushing gently until Minghao crawled into bed and swaddled himself like a spring roll with a warm, blanket wrapper. 

The notes of the song come easily—it’s one Minghao has often played through their sound bar when he’s in charge of apartment background music. Minghao plays it enough that Jun looked up the sheet music, practiced whenever Minghao was out, and now knows it well enough to improvise. He makes his flourishes low and sweet, perfect for lulling someone to sleep. Jun plays quietly and carefully in the moonlight, and he doesn’t stop until Minghao’s eyes have drifted shut and his breathing has evened out, steady like the tides. 

Jun watches to make sure he stays asleep, lingering only long enough to finish the final measure of the song. As the last chord rings out, he stands and retreats to his room, glancing back at Minghao’s sleeping form only once before closing the door behind him. He hopes the song was enough. He hopes Minghao sleeps well. 

It takes Jun a while to fall asleep. 

**

Minghao knocks on Jun’s bedroom door eight times before he hears a hoarse croaking noise. 

“I’m assuming that means I can come in,” he calls before turning the knob and stepping inside. 

Jun has the curtains drawn and the only sound Minghao can hear is the quiet puffing of the humidifier on Jun’s table. As Minghao approaches the bed in the corner, the mound of blankets atop it shifts and a hand emerges. The hand gropes for the edges of the blankets, trying to peel some of them back. Ultimately unsuccessful, the blanket mountain makes a defeated noise and the hand disappears. Minghao waits for the blankets to settle before pulling at them until he's unearthed enough of his roommate to see a face.

“Wow, you look…awful,” Minghao says. 

Jun tries to glare at him, but the effect is dampened by how puffy his eyes are. “Thanks,” he croaks. “You look wonderful, as always.”

“How long have you been like this?” Minghao asks. He places a hand on Jun’s forehead, wincing sympathetically when Jun flinches. He's warm, but not overly so, which is a relief. 

“I woke up like this. Flawless.” 

Minghao relaxes, just a little. Jun’s obviously sick, but his eyes are still glittering and he doesn't have a fever. Minghao has been out more often than not over the past week, busy with assignments and extra practices, and he hopes he didn't miss the signs his roommate was getting sick. 

“Junhui, please,” he says quietly. 

Jun sighs and screws his eyes shut in concentration. “Maybe last night? I don't remember what time I got in, so it might have been this morning. What time is it now? Is it late?”

“It's the weekend, so it's fine. You can stay in bed. Don't worry about that.”

“Oh no. Was there something I needed to do today?”

“It’s fine,” Minghao repeats, pushing down lightly on Jun’s chest when he tries to sit up. “You’re fine.”

Jun scrabbles at his hands in protest, but quickly has to turn his head to the side to avoid coughing and wheezing on Minghao. His head falls back against the pillow and his fingers curl loosely around Minghao's wrists. He gives Minghao a bleary-eyed once over. 

“Of course I'm fine,” he says. “Why are you fine too? Why are you dressed up?”

Minghao has to press down to keep Jun from trying to sit up again. Jun’s fingers twitch where they're pressed against Minghao's skin. 

“Minghao, do you have somewhere to be today? Am I keeping you? You can go. Please go. Don't worry about me. I'm sure it's just a cold. I can—”

“Stop talking.”

Jun's eyes flash and he grins. “Make me.”

Minghao ignores him. “I'm going to go, but if I come back and you've done anything strenuous, you'll  _ wish _ all you had was a cold.”

Minghao does have plans, or he did, but Jun looks miserable even if he is still trying to flirt. There's a market around the corner that sells cold medicine and spicy food. He could cook something here, but a run to the store will be quicker. Minghao extracts himself from Jun’s grip and tucks him back in. 

“I mean it. Stay here,” he says. 

Jun pouts, but eventually nods and burrows deeper into his blanket mountain.

“Good. I'll be back.”

Minghao makes the trip as quickly as possible, running only when he's positive he won't spill the soup on the sidewalk. When he returns to the apartment, he transfers steaming, extra spicy noodle soup into a bowl and carries it into Jun’s room on a tray with a large glass of water and a thermos of tea. 

He wasn't gone for long—he made sure of that—but it was long enough for Jun to fall back asleep. Minghao sets the tray down on Jun’s dresser and goes about excavating him from his blankets. Jun looks peaceful like this, even with his nose sensitive and red and his hair all messy. Minghao fights the surge of fondness rising in his chest and snaps his fingers in front of Jun's face to wake him. When nothing happens but a sleepy snuffle from Jun, Minghao snaps his fingers again to keep himself from doing something foolish like kissing Jun’s forehead. 

“Hey, Junhui, you need to get up,” Minghao says, careful to keep his voice low. Jun squirms and mashes his face into his pillow with a pitiful groan. “Junhui, come on. You need to eat.”

Jun makes a sleep soft sound and stretches before opening his eyes. “What's wrong?” he asks. 

“Can you sit up for me?” Minghao asks. “You need to eat something.” He turns to retrieve the tray and feels a tug at the hem of his sweater. 

“What?” he asks, glancing back. 

Jun's voice is small and Minghao has to lean in to hear when he asks, “Where are you going?”

Minghao softens. “I'm just getting your soup. I brought tea and water too. Once you're done eating, I have medicine for you.” 

Jun’s hand clenches around Minghao's sweater, so he tries again. “I brought in a tray. I'm not going far. Can you let go for me?”

Jun frowns down at his hand and flexes his fingers before releasing Minghao. “Okay,” he says, quiet. 

“I'll be right back,” Minghao promises. 

He moves quickly, transferring the tray to Jun’s side table and carefully propping Jun upright with the aid of several pillows. Jun moves in slow motion, and Minghao keeps a hand on his shoulder to steady him as he arranges the blankets draped across Jun’s lap. 

By the time Jun is finally settled and slurping at his soup, color has started returning to his face. Minghao stays at the foot of the bed while he eats, partly because every time he looks like he might leave the room, Jun makes a wounded noise and then stops eating, looking incredibly embarrassed about it. Minghao just wants to make sure Jun finishes his food. That's all. No one else can see that he's got a hand resting over Jun’s ankle where it’s covered by blankets near him. 

Jun takes the medicine without argument and accepts the thermos of tea, eyes half closed. 

“You should get some more rest,” Minghao says. When Jun says nothing, he adds, “You still look like shit.”

Jun cracks an eye open to glare at him. “That's a lie and you know it. I always look good. So do you.”

Minghao bites his lip and withdraws his hand from Jun’s ankle. “Okay. I'm going to go clean this up and let you go back to sleep, alright?”

Jun frowns down at his tea before nodding slowly. “You're—you're not going to be far away, are you?” The words come out like syrup, slow and heavy, like Jun might be moments from setting the tea aside and falling asleep. 

“No,” Minghao assures him, unable to keep the fondness out of his tone. Jun’s probably too tired and groggy to remember this later anyway. “You'd better sleep or else.”

Jun laughs quietly and leans back against his pillows. “Okay. I'll try.”

Minghao makes it to the door, tray in hand, before Jun says anything else. The words are soft but clear. 

“Thanks for taking care of me, Minghao.”

When Minghao glances back, Jun's eyes are closed, so Minghao just closes the door quietly and heads for the kitchen, ignoring the tightness in his chest. As long as Jun will let him, Minghao will always take care of him. 

**

“Stop that,” Minghao says without looking up from his notebook. 

“How does he know?” Soonyoung stage whispers to Seokmin. He puts his own notebook down and scoots closer to Seokmin. 

“Probably magic,” Seokmin stage whispers back. “Back in my day, we didn't have anything like that.”

Soonyoung grins. “Aigoo, Grandpa, we made our own magic.”

“Granny, be careful. There are children here,” Seokmin laughs. 

Jun snorts, just as Minghao says, “I’m being serious. Stop it, Jun-hyung.”

“Stop what?” Jun squawks, placing a hand over his heart like a deeply offended Victorian noblewoman. He’s not doing anything for once, except—

“Stop looking at me like that,” Minghao clarifies. He still hasn’t looked up, but he aggressively clicks his pen a few times with greater venom than usual. 

“Definitely magic,” Seokmin tells Soonyoung, who nods in agreement. 

“What are you talking about, Minghao?” Jun asks, leaning forward to prop his chin up on his hands. He knows what Minghao is talking about. He thought he was being subtle, and that Soonyoung’s and Seokmin’s grandparents bit would be distracting enough, but he should know better. It’s just that Soonyoung helped Minghao dye his hair a soft brown recently, and Jun can’t help but stare. He’s weak.

“Why are you looking at me like that, and why won’t you stop?”

Jun thinks about his answer for a moment before saying, sweetly, “It’s because you’re so cute. You’re cute and I like you.”

Sometimes when you lie, you have to keep fragments of the truth to make it believable. Other times, you tell the whole truth and make it sound like a lie. 

Minghao finally looks up at him. “What? I’m—what?”

“Cute,” Jun says. “And I like you.”

Minghao scowls, and that’s cute too. “Stop liking me.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jun says, singsong. 

“That’s true,” Soonyoung agrees, cackling happily. 

“I hate you all.”

Seokmin gasps, leaning into Soonyoung for support. “Even me? I didn’t do  _ anything _ ! I thought we were 97 line forever. Ride or die.”

“Fine. But you’re on thin fucking ice,” Minghao tells Seokmin.

There’s a pause as Jun and Soonyoung try not to laugh. Then Seokmin says, very quietly, “Cute.”

Minghao lunges at him and Jun laughs so hard he tips over. Seokmin tries, ineffectively, to use Soonyoung as a human shield, but Minghao has him pinned to the ground almost immediately. Jun wipes at his eyes, still laughing, and Minghao points at him from where he’s straddling a giggling Seokmin.

“You’re next.”

“Wonderful,” Jun beams at him. “Give us a kiss, then.” Minghao reddens further and he throws a pen at Jun’s face. It’s not a kiss, but it’s really fucking cute. Jun will take what he can get. 

**

It’s been several days and no matter how many other songs he listens to, this one keeps coming back. It’s stuck. It’s not a bad song, but Minghao is at the point where Seungkwan catches him singing it under his breath while they work on separate assignments in an alcove on campus. Seungkwan pats his shoulder insistently until he agrees to sing the chorus again.

“Sorry for being so loud,” Minghao says sheepishly, after Seungkwan has heard enough and is satisfied he can now sing along.

Seungkwan levels an unimpressed look at him. “Loud? You’ve met Seokmin, haven’t you? Tall? Very good at projecting his voice?  _ Too _ good at projecting his voice, perhaps? You’re doing just fine.”

Minghao shrugs and returns to annotating the margins of his textbook. When Seungkwan starts humming the song while he works, Minghao resigns himself to living the rest of his life with the song stuck in his head.

It’s another late night. Minghao walks with Seungkwan until the streets to their apartments diverge, and he promises to text him when he gets inside. Minghao gets home and is halfway to the bathroom to take a shower when he notices Jun sprawled across the couch, one arm thrown across his face. The lights are out, and Minghao wonders if Jun has been there for most of the evening. He hesitates at the threshold, but before he can call out to see if everything is okay, Jun flaps a hand at him. Minghao flees.

Once he’s clean, has patted moisturizer into his skin, and has brushed his teeth, he walks back to check on Jun. He hasn’t moved since Minghao last saw him, so Minghao folds himself down on the floor next to the couch, legs crossed neatly underneath him. When Jun still doesn’t stir, Minghao pokes his arm.

“What?” Jun asks flatly.

Minghao frowns, cocking his head to one side. “You okay?”

Jun makes a noncommittal noise and rolls over, bringing their faces close together. Minghao meets his gaze for a couple of beats and then reflexively turns away.

“I’m fine,” Jun says, voice low and raspy. “If you, um, want to do any work in here, you can turn on a lamp. I don’t mind.”

Minghao turns to see Jun has rolled onto his back again, hands clasped atop his stomach. There are a few readings left before class, so Minghao could finish reading those in his room or bring his things out here. He knows Jun likes to be by himself most of the time, despite how loud he can be around all the people he flirts with and all of their close friends. But he also knows that sometimes, Jun just wants to be in the same room as another person. Minghao can give him that.

He heaves himself up and retrieves his laptop. By the time Minghao returns, Jun has shifted over to free up space for him, draping himself backward over the arm of the couch. Minghao drops into the empty space gratefully, but his neck twinges just looking at how Jun is sitting. He doesn’t comment, just takes the throw pillow Jun hands him so he can prop his laptop up on it.

It’s quiet but comfortable, the way things usually are when both of them are busy or have settled down for the day. Minghao glances over at Jun occasionally, moreso when he finishes the second article and is waiting for the third to load. He tells himself he’s just making sure Jun doesn’t strain anything in his neck or fall off the couch, but he’s aware that’s a weak defense. The lamplight hits the column of Jun’s throat and the crests of his collarbones so warmly, and his head is tipped back far enough that he can’t catch Minghao looking. It’s easy to get distracted.

It's not long after he turns his attention back to the final article that he realizes he's been humming again. He stops and sits quietly, staring over the top of his computer and hoping he hadn’t been too loud, or at least that he hadn't disturbed Jun. 

“Why'd you stop?”

Too loud, then. No luck. 

“Sorry.”

Jun rolls forward so he's sitting upright and pulls his knees up to his chest. Minghao watches him worry his lip before taking a deep breath. 

“Can you—if you don't mind, can you sing for me? Maybe? Only if it's not going to distract you from your work. Actually, never mind. It's fine. I'm sorry.”

Minghao is grateful Jun is staring down and not at him because his voice is shaky when he sings the first line of the song; it wavers harder when he hears Jun’s sharp inhale. It takes another couple of lines for him to settle, and he continues singing softly, deliberately facing forward so he can't see Jun’s reaction. He's not ready yet. 

Minghao makes it through the first chorus of Mindy Quah’s “Crazy for You” before he musters the energy to glance over at Jun. 

Jun’s eyes are still on Minghao, but his gaze is slightly unfocused and sleepy. There's a soft smile on his face and, frustratingly, this is what makes Minghao blush. He knows Jun could snap out of his daze at any moment and catch him looking, but Minghao is helpless. It's more challenging than it should be to look away. When he reaches the end of the song, he turns his attention back to the article for class. He's humming the last notes of the outro when Jun stirs again. Minghao keeps his eyes on the screen despite having finished his work for the night. He feels Jun stand, hears him stretch, and relaxes only when Jun places a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks,” Jun says quietly, squeezing once and then slowly, sleepily wandering toward his room. 

Minghao abandons the pretense of reading and watches Jun go with a sharp pang in his chest. He sits still long after Jun's bedroom door closes. Minghao wonders how long the imprint of Jun’s hand on his shoulder will burn, and how long it will take for him to repress that too. 

**

“Again,” Minghao pants. 

Jun tugs his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his brow before taking his place beside Minghao. The music starts again and everything snaps into place. After a full day of running the choreography, their motions have become more fluid and their footwork sharper. Each step makes a satisfying thump against the floor of the studio practice room. Every time Jun passes Minghao to take center position, he catches the glint in his eyes, and that fans the flame already powering him through the routine. The music finally fades and finds them standing back to back, chests heaving. It took time, but Jun thinks they’re finally done. It's ready. 

“Do you think they'll be able to learn this choreography? Will we be able to teach it to them?” Jun asks, using his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face again. He hopes they will. Even when the routine was rougher around the edges, there were neat bits of footwork, sharp framing, and fluid transitions in and out of the center of each group formation. It's a piece he thinks he'd want to learn if he were a student attending a dance workshop. He just hopes the actual students feel the same way. 

“Yeah,” Minghao says belatedly, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. The circles under his eyes are bruised soft, but his gaze is still sharp. Jun only realizes he’s been staring when Minghao tosses a water bottle and a towel at him and he narrowly misses getting hit in the face. 

“Come on. We can shower here and then go home. Drink some water first,” Minghao grumbles. 

They spend as little time as possible in the studio showers, and Jun emerges bright-eyed but exhausted. He follows Minghao back to their apartment in near complete silence, thinking about the report he needs to finish before class and not thinking about how little sleep he's gotten this week. It takes Minghao a couple of tries to get their entry code right on the keypad, but soon Jun is shuffling into the apartment behind him and fumbling for a light switch. 

“You have papers to finish too, yeah?” Jun asks, rubbing at his eyes. Minghao just nods. “Do you want to edit together? I'm so tired.”

“Gonna go change first,” Minghao mumbles, and Jun goes to do the same thing. 

Jun makes himself comfortable on his bed, leaving plenty of pillows and blankets for Minghao, who joins him later. They work together quietly and Jun finishes his second round of edits before his stomach begins to growl quietly. He looks over to see if Minghao heard and has to bite his lip to suppress a smile. Over the past half hour or so, Minghao has started tipping sideways, and now he’s held upright only by the small barricade of pillows and blankets tucked around him. The determined, focused look on his face is only broken by a couple of huge yawns. Jun's not in better shape—he's almost horizontal and has to tilt his laptop screen if he wants to see anything from this angle. He's just glad his report isn't due until later in the morning. The words are already starting to blur together. 

“Minghao? Hey, Minghao, I can't tell if this sentence is right. Is it a fragment or did I remember to finish the clause before I lost track?” Jun squints at his screen and has to fight to keep his eyes open. “I'm not sure these are real words any more, but they were real an—oh shit. Yeah, they were real two hours ago.”

Minghao finishes tapping away at his touchpad, and Jun watches him submit his paper before closing his laptop, pushing pillows out of his way, and scooting closer to Jun. He moves too quickly and ends up pressed against Jun’s side, but neither of them try to change that. Minghao proofreads with Jun, chin eventually coming to rest on his shoulder when he tilts his head and points at something on Jun’s screen. His breath is warm on Jun’s arm, and distantly, like it’s happening to someone else, Jun feels goosebumps rise in its wake. 

“This is a bad angle for your neck,” Minghao murmurs, shifting to rest his head fully on Jun’s shoulder. 

“Probably,” Jun says, but he doesn't move. 

He quietly corrects and edits things both of them find within the report. Minghao's feedback grows softer as they finish the final read-through. By the time Jun has successfully saved his report, closed his laptop, and stretched to put both of their computers on the side table, Minghao has fallen completely silent. Jun flops back gently, careful not to jostle Minghao, whose eyes keep slipping shut. It's quiet and warm, and they're both mostly horizontal, so Jun doesn't feel too guilty about letting them fall asleep like this. He thinks he might succeed and finally get some rest, but then his stomach growls loudly. 

He clutches at his stomach and waits to see if that was a one off, but he's not so lucky. When his stomach makes an extended rumbling noise, he sighs heavily. Then he remembers Minghao hasn't eaten in just as long and that's enough to motivate him to turn his head to the side. 

“Minghao. Hao,” he calls. 

Minghao hums but stays otherwise still and quiet. 

“Minghao, I think we need to eat food. I'm hungry and this is terrible.”

“That’s nice,” Minghao mumbles, pressing his face into Jun's shoulder. 

“No it's not,” Jun whines. “I just said it's terrible. You must be hungry.”

Minghao makes a snuffling noise and Jun is almost surprised his stomach growling is louder than the stuttered thudding of his heart. 

Jun clears his throat and tries again. “Listen, Minghao, we need food.”

“No.” His answer lilts up at the end and Jun contemplates giving up so he doesn't have to listen to Minghao being cute this late (or early in the morning). 

“Yes we do,” Jun insists.

Minghao shakes his head and yawns big enough that Jun can hear a soft pop in his jaw. Jun yawns in response almost immediately and has to tilt his head back further to accommodate the way Minghao moves in slow to tuck his head under Jun’s chin. 

“How about you just tell me what you want and I'll go make it and bring it back?” Jun asks. “It can be anything. What—” he yawns again and then continues, “do you want?”

There's a moment where Jun thinks Minghao has drifted off, tucked comfortably up against him. But then there's a quiet, soft response mumbled into his clavicle. 

“You,” Minghao says, and falls silent again like it was nothing. 

It takes Jun a minute to process why his heart has skipped a few beats, but once he’s got it, he's never felt so awake. Even the strongest caffeine has never shocked his system so quickly. 

“Wait. Wait, did you just—?” Jun's aware he's being loud, but this is important. He needs confirmation, and maybe to start breathing normally again. He pushes at Minghao so he can see his face, and watches as it scrunches up in protest. There are faint lines on Minghao's cheeks from where he'd mashed his face against Jun's shirt. Jun shakes him by the shoulders, just a little, and Minghao whines, overbalances, and almost rolls off the bed. 

“What're you doing?”

“What did you just say to me?” Jun asks in a rush. 

“What?” Minghao rubs at his face and blinks at Jun sleepily. 

There's a high whine and Jun notes with dismay that it came from him. “Minghao, what did you just say to me?” he repeats before he loses his nerve. “Did you just say you want  _ me _ ?”

Minghao is silent long enough for Jun to wonder if he did imagine it, and for embarrassment and mild horror to set in, but then Minghao goes rigid. A bright flush blooms across his cheeks and Jun knows. He gasps, but it comes out more like a wheeze as he tries to wrap his head around Minghao's sleep soft answer and his reaction upon realizing he said it out loud. Then Minghao sits up and moves out of Jun’s reach, and that demands more immediate attention. 

“I'll just,” Minghao starts, swallowing thickly before continuing. “I’ll just go now. I'll go back to my room. Sorry.”

Every time Jun tells Minghao he wants him or likes him or needs him, he always frames it as a joke. An exaggeration. General, light, friendly fondness. His strategy involves making sure Minghao knows he's important to Jun, while also trying desperately to make sure he never makes Minghao uncomfortable enough to need to leave for good. Somehow, it looks like maybe Jun’s fear is manifesting now, and that clamps a vise around his ribcage. 

“No! No, why would you do that?” Jun’s not sure what changed so quickly, why Minghao wants to leave so much, or why the rigid set of Minghao's clenched jaw makes him want to cry. 

“You literally just tried to push me off the bed. I get it. I’ll go. I’m sorry.”

“No, please, I didn't mean to do that. That's not what I was trying to do. Please don't go.” Jun wants to reach out and take Minghao's hand, but he doesn't want to make things worse. 

“Junhui, please don't do this. Just let me go, okay?” Minghao says, voice painfully even.

“I really don't want to,” Jun admits quietly. Minghao said he wanted him, but Jun knows they're both exhausted and more prone to confusion. He needs clarification. He needs to talk to Minghao about this, but the chance to do so is rapidly slipping out of his grasp. 

“You need to!” Minghao snaps, and his words are loud, almost loud enough to echo in the quiet of Jun’s room. “Let me go be embarrassed by myself. Why are you being like this? You're not usually mean. I’m  _ sorry _ . I'm going.”

“Why are  _ you _ sorry?” Jun asks, and he winces when his voice cracks. 

Minghao stands up next to the bed and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable,” he says quietly. “I know you don't feel that way, and it's fine. I'm dealing with it. I just need you to leave it alone, okay? Please?”

“What?”

Minghao scrubs his hands through his hair and refuses to make eye contact with Jun again. “What do you mean, Junhui? What part do you need me to explain? I mean it—I really am sorry. I shouldn't have said anything.” Minghao laughs, and the sound is hollow and Jun doesn't like it at all. “I know this is just how you are and it's okay. I promise I'm dealing with it. I didn't mean to yell. I'm sorry.”

Jun shakes his head. “Why do you keep apologizing?”

“Because I know better! You treat me the same way you treat everyone. You never mean anything by it. I get it.”

“I—I don't think you do,” Jun says weakly. 

Minghao makes a frustrated noise, but Jun gulps and forges on. This is important, even if it feels dangerous to lay his figurative cards out between them. He feels vulnerable and exposed, but he imagines Minghao feels the same way. 

“Minghao, I have told you to your face that I think you're cute and that I like you. Did you think I didn't mean any of that?”

“You never mean any of it. You say those things to Yanan and Soonyoung all the time,” Minghao says. 

“Not like  _ this _ .” Jun frowns, and frowns harder when Minghao gives him a disbelieving look. “I'm doing this wrong. Fuck, why is this so hard?” Jun drags both hands down his face. 

“Minghao,” he says, putting in extra effort to keep his voice clear and level. “I like you. I've always liked you. I've always been like this because I've always liked you. I thought maybe you knew, but that it was okay and it would get easier. Just like with everyone else, I never pushed, but I tried to be extra careful with you. I didn't want to actually make you uncomfortable. I didn't want to make you have to leave. Please, don't go. I just wanted to know what you meant earlier.  _ I’m _ sorry.”

“What?” Minghao’s voice is so soft that, had Jun not seen him speak, he might have thought he imagined it. 

“I'm sorry. I also thought maybe it would go away over time, but it hasn't. I always mean what I say to you, even if I leave things out. I know sometimes it's too much, but I always mean it when it's you. And it's always been you.”

Minghao makes an unhappy noise in the back of his throat and Jun’s stomach flips over. “Why do you always say things like that?” Minghao asks, wringing his hands. 

Jun’s hands itch more than ever to reach out and lace their fingers together, but he refrains. He's still uncertain and unbalanced, and he'll stay that way until he gets some explicit confirmation or denial from Minghao, or until his anxiety eats away at him. 

“It's you,” Jun says. “It’s always you, and I'm always like this. Like you said, this is just how I am. I, um, I should be the one apologizing. I can—no, I  _ will _ try harder. I'll work harder to get over you. I'm sorry. If you still want to leave, you can.” 

He swallows and finally breaks eye contact, letting his gaze fall to his hands, which are clasped together in his lap so he can't reach out for Minghao. 

“What the fuck, Junhui.”

Jun flinches, curling in on himself. 

“No,” Minghao says, voice strained. “Junhui, I'm going to need you to look at me and to stop talking for a second.”

Jun forces himself to meet Minghao's gaze. A tremor has started somewhere in his core and he can feel it spreading to his fingertips. Jun clenches his hands into fists to try to steady them. 

“I don't want you to try harder, at least not in the way you meant it just now,” Minghao says. His face is blotchy and red but he looks determined. “If you could try harder when it comes to clarity, that would be great. Ideal, even. You said you've always been like this, and you have, and it's really fucking frustrating.”

“Minghao, I'm sorry I—”

“Junhui, please let me finish,” Minghao says through gritted teeth. Jun obediently falls silent. 

“It's frustrating because you're like this with everyone. I've even watched you flirt with the librarians in Wonwoo-hyung’s favorite library, and several of those times, you weren't even trying to ask them for a favor. It's just how you are! How the fuck am I supposed to look at all of that and think you mean any of it? You flirt with everyone, and I think that includes me, so clearly it can't mean anything.”

“But—”

“I'm almost done,” Minghao cuts him off, not unkindly. “It’s so easy to accept that you don't really mean any of it. It's  _ so _ easy. It's also frustrating.”

“What are you trying to say?” Jun asks quietly. 

Minghao huffs out a laugh and rubs at his eyes again. “I'm saying I like you. It's terrible. It's always been terrible, but I was dealing with it. Now I'm not sure how to do that any more.”

Jun holds out a shaky hand, palm up, hopeful. He watches Minghao stare at him for a while before slowly placing his hand in Jun’s. He thinks that if he were the type to cry easily, he'd be crying now. As it is, Jun settles for letting a huge grin spread across his face as he looks at their joined hands. 

“If it's okay with you, I’d like to deal with it together,” Jun says. 

“What?” Minghao huffs, but it sounds more like the beginning of a laugh than a distressed noise. It's beautiful. 

“We like each other, somehow, and I think that's something we can deal with together. I think that would be better,” Jun says, adjusting his grip so he can thread their fingers together. “What do you think?”

There's a tiny quirk at the corner of Minghao's mouth that gets bigger the longer he studies their hands. “I guess—”

And then, of course, Jun's stomach growls again, louder than it has all night. 

“Now is not the time,” Jun mutters. 

“Maybe it is.” Minghao bites his lip to tamp down a smile. Jun’s stomach rumbles again in agreement.

“This is embarrassing.” Jun clutches his stomach with one hand. 

“That too,” Minghao giggles, finally, and Jun perks up. “But how much more could we embarrass ourselves tonight anyway?”

“I could tell you about how much I like your butt in those pants,” Jun offers. 

“Are you always going to be like this?” Minghao groans. 

“We've established that already, yes. I think we've also established that I'm really hungry and you might be too. The only thing I—I just want to confirm that this—” Jun shakes their joined hands between them, “—really means you like me too.”

Minghao rolls his eyes, but squeezes his hand once. “Yeah. I think we've confirmed that. Come on. We can make ramyeon.”

“That's so romantic,” Jun whispers, and Minghao squeezes his hand harder. 

It's almost like any other late night. Jun stays mostly out of Minghao's way, except when he's helping prepare noodles and seasoning. Once the water is boiling, Jun leans against his usual countertop to watch fondly while Minghao flits around their kitchen. The only difference tonight is how Jun doesn't immediately look away every time Minghao glances over and catches him looking. Sometimes, Minghao looks back, a weight behind his gaze. 

With minimal effort, only because Minghao wants him to stop, Jun cajoles a sip of broth out of Minghao’s spoon so he can taste to see if it's done. As Jun’s straightening back up, Minghao ladles out another spoonful for himself. His tongue flicks out to catch a drop at the corner of his mouth and Jun is struck suddenly, feeling bold. Bolder than usual. 

“Hey, Minghao?” 

Minghao hums in acknowledgement, stirring the noodles and mushrooms with his chopsticks. He drops two eggs inside the pot to poach them, and Jun waits until he's disposed of the eggshells and has returned to the stove.

“Minghao, can I kiss you?” Jun asks. 

Minghao's hand slips and he almost stabs one of the soft eggs with his chopsticks. “What?”

“Can I kiss you?” Jun repeats, jittery with nerves and a little bit of hope. 

“I thought you were hungry,” Minghao says, unimpressed. He turns back to the stovetop and turns off the burner. 

Jun grins. “I  _ am _ hungry. I'm h—”

“If you say you're hungry for love or something like that, I won't put any extra peppers in your bowl.” He’s glaring at Jun but his smile softens the threat. 

Jun throws his head back and laughs. “Hungry for—I’m so proud of you. But also, please don't do that. You know where my family and I are from, and how I feel about peppers.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Okay.” Jun peers into the pot and admires the rich, red hue of the broth as it simmers. Like always, it looks great and he's excited to eat the ramyeon with Minghao. 

“Yes.”

Jun freezes, and then he turns slowly to look at Minghao, who has turned a tiny, lopsided smile toward the ramyeon. 

“Was that a ‘ _ yes’ _ yes? Can—can I really?”

Minghao laughs and Jun's heart skips several beats, hummingbird quick. And then Minghao is putting a hand on the back of Jun's neck and pulling him in and Jun's world narrows down to the places they're touching. Minghao's lips are soft, and the little gasp he makes into Jun's mouth is even softer. Jun thinks he could kiss Minghao all day, if not for how his stomach unleashes its loudest rumble yet. 

They part and Minghao laughs again, snapping his fingers in front of Jun’s face. He realizes he's had his eyes closed for a few beats more than strictly necessary. When Jun opens his eyes again, he briefly considers going to bed—to sleep—immediately, because he thinks he may for once be too tired and too hungry to deal with Minghao's smile, which is equal parts fond and exasperated. Clearly, the best course of action is to kiss Minghao again, so Jun leans in and does that. 

Minghao eventually pushes at Jun's shoulder after one final peck to the center of his mouth. “Go sit down. I don't want to spill anything.”

Jun scurries to the table, which is already set, and waits with what he thinks is admirable patience. When Minghao sets two bowls down between them, Jun smiles fondly at the extra sliced peppers sprinkled atop his serving. They're arranged in a flower formation and Jun's heart swells at the sight. Minghao looks uncomfortable and uncertain in his seat for a moment, but then he nods to himself, stretches out, and tangles their ankles together under the table. Jun smiles through the meal and thinks this might be the best, most perfect ramyeon he’s ever had. 

**

The first time it happens, Minghao is waiting for Jun to get out of a late lab. He's hungry, but not uncomfortably so, so he figures he can stick around to grab a late dinner with Jun before they head home. He's leaning against a wall, idly scrolling through Instagram, when the lab door finally opens. Jun and Yanan exit in the middle of the pack, chatting quietly as they squeeze past their classmates. Jun’s eyes are bright, even from a distance, the way they always are when he's talking to a friend. Yanan is glowing too, like he can't help it in the face of an excited Wen Junhui. Minghao can tell when Jun notices him across the way because somehow, he lights up even more. 

There's a skip in Jun's step as he leads Yanan over to Minghao, and Yanan follows with an amused smile, still listening to the story Jun is telling. While he's gesticulating, Minghao catches one of Jun's hands and holds it, and Jun trails off. 

“Oh?” Yanan’s eyebrows go way up and his smile gets wider, prettier, and more surprised. “What’s this?”

Minghao smiles, swinging their joined hands back and forth, and turns to see how Jun will answer. He doesn't, though. His mouth opens and closes a few times, and he stares down at their joined hands for a moment before looking up at Yanan, eyes wide. Then Jun ducks his head and Minghao realizes he's shy. Yanan comes to this conclusion too and looks delighted, and Minghao thinks,  _ Oh _ . 

Minghao writes it off as a one time thing, maybe, where he somehow managed to catch Jun off guard in front of a friend who didn’t know they were dating yet. But it keeps happening.

They’re at a new café in town with a few of their friends, and Minghao keeps shifting his weight to accommodate Jun, who keeps leaning heavily into his side. They stare up at the blackboard menu together and Minghao contemplates the list of signature teas.

“Do you know what you want? I think,” Jun trails off, lost in thought. Minghao nudges his side and he twitches. “Right. I think I want something sweet.”

“That’s unsurprising,” Minghao says. Jun raises an eyebrow and leans away so he can get a better look at Minghao’s face.

“What? That I want something sweet?”

“Yeah,” Minghao nods. “That’s why you have me. I guess that’s also why I have you.”

Jun’s jaw drops satisfyingly, and Minghao struggles to maintain his neutral facial expression. When Jun continues to stare at him, dumbstruck, he presses gentle fingers to the underside of Jun’s jaw until his mouth clicks shut.

“If you want something extra sweet…” Minghao taps his own chin thoughtfully and then smiles, fond and a little dangerous. He presses a quick, featherlight kiss to Jun’s cheek, relishing the way Jun’s eyes go wide.

Beside them, Seungkwan scowls at the coffee he’d just retrieved from the counter and then scowls up at the two of them. “That was gross. This is gross and I want to go home.”

“What?” Hansol appears then, his own order in hand. He frowns at Seungkwan’s coffee and asks, “Do you want me to go get more sugar for you?”

Seungkwan turns his scowl on Hansol, who takes a step back. “I can’t believe you abandoned me and made me witness that alone. And  _ you _ , hyung,” he says, turning back to glare at Minghao. “I expected that kind of thing from Jun-hyung but not from you. How dare you.”

Minghao feels bold and bolstered, especially when he sees how adorably flushed Jun is. “Do  _ you _ want some more sugar?” He presses a kiss to Jun’s other cheek and then to the tip of his nose. As he pulls back, Jun squawks loudly and Hansol chokes on his drink, pinching his nose to keep iced coffee from coming out.

“Well,” Seungkwan says flatly, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “That was also gross. There’s not a single normal person here.”

Minghao thinks he might be right, but he’s preoccupied with the way Jun holds his hand and drags him up to the counter to order drinks.

The next time it happens, it’s more subdued and only Jeonghan and Jisoo seem to notice. They’re at family movie night, which is what Jeonghan insists on calling their gatherings, mainly because it makes Seungcheol react in increasingly comical ways. Tonight, he dramatically flops across Chan and Hansol on the couch. They exchange a glance and gently roll him off their laps and onto the floor.

While mild chaos erupts from that side of the room, Jun winks at Minghao from his spot, leaning against the base of a different couch and safe from anyone who could try to push him over. Minghao surveys the room and notes how crowded but comfortable it is, even with Seungcheol yelling and Chan cackling loudly. Minghao starts to sit next to Jun as someone queues up the movie, but then changes his mind. He places a hand on Jun’s knee for support and deposits himself in Jun’s lap. When he settles back against Jun’s chest, Minghao feels him go stiff.

“Is this okay?” he asks, twisting around so he can see Jun’s face in the dark.

Jun gulps and then nods rapidly, hands coming up and hovering in the air like he’s not quite sure what to do with them. Minghao waits patiently and Jun slowly, slowly lets his hands settle atop his thighs. He takes a few experimental deep breaths and feels Jun relax beneath him on the second exhale. As the movie begins, Jun loops one arm firmly around Minghao’s waist and tugs so they’re sitting more comfortably, flush against each other. Minghao bites back a smile, and that’s when he notices Jeonghan and Jisoo watching them from the other side of the room. Jeonghan waggles his eyebrows at Minghao and Jisoo jabs him with his elbow.

“What’s so funny?” Jun whispers.

“Nothing.” Minghao raises one of Jun’s hands to his face to press a kiss against his knuckles, and he fails to bite back his smile when Jun makes an embarrassed noise into his shoulder.

Just when Minghao thinks Jun has finally gotten used to things, Jun surprises him again. It’s mid-afternoon and Minghao is opening their windows to let in fresh air. Jun is rummaging around in his room for something; he’s been in there long enough that Minghao has forgotten what he’d gone to retrieve.

He finally has his easel set up atop a spread of newspapers and plastic when Jun yells triumphantly but unintelligibly from his bedroom. Minghao waits for clarification and, when it doesn’t come, starts arranging his watercolors. He’s mixing a muted red and brushing a soft wash of it onto the canvas when Jun yells something else.

Distracted, Minghao yells back, “ _ What is it, qin? _ ” 

From Jun’s room, there’s silence, followed by a loud crash and a muffled yelp. Another crash follows, this time with a louder yelp, and Minghao sighs. He heaves himself up and goes to investigate, only to find Jun sprawled on his bedroom floor, rubbing his shin and frowning.

“I was painting but I see something terrible has happened here. What did you do? What happened to you?” Minghao asks, amused.

Jun points an accusing finger at him. “ _ You _ did.”

Minghao crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorframe. “I was painting. I wasn’t even in here. What could I possibly have done?”

“You—” Jun breaks off and covers his face with his hands before mumbling something Minghao can’t follow. 

“Junhui, I don’t know what that means,” Minghao says patiently. 

Jun rolls over so he’s facing away from Minghao before he replies. “You called me  _ dear _ .”

“Did I—oh.  _ Oh _ .” He did do that, didn’t he? “Is that okay?”

Jun muffles a distressed noise into his arm and rolls back over to face Minghao. “Yeah, that’s okay.” 

After he’s teased Jun for literally falling over because of a casual, accidental sign of affection, Minghao coaxes him into standing and joining him in their living room. He files the whole experience away for future reference. 

It’s nice to know he hasn’t lost his touch. It’s not that Minghao has stopped being flustered by the things Jun says or does, but now he can retaliate effectively. He’s learning to give as good as he gets, and he’s very good. He also thinks he understands why Jun is so fond of teasing him and the rest of their friends, not that he’d ever admit that out loud.

The lunar new year passes and things settle down. Minghao knows when Jun finds his first note in the apartment because he gets a series of messages that are more exclamation points and question marks than words in the middle of class. He heads home as soon as the lecture ends, eager to see whether Jun has completed his scavenger hunt. Shortly after opening the front door of their apartment, Minghao is nearly bowled over by a fast-moving Wen Junhui.

“I can’t believe you got one for me,” Jun wails, hands coming up to frame Minghao’s jaw so he can pepper his face with kisses. Only a few of them land on his mouth but the rest are no less sweet. 

“Jun, please,” Minghao laughs, “I need to take off my shoes.”

“I like you even with your shoes on,” Jun insists, and Minghao pushes him away with more force. “Okay, fine, but once you’re ready, I want you to come into the kitchen because I’ve started it up and I want you to be with me for this.”

When Minghao steps into the kitchen later, he finds Jun leaning over the table, talking quietly to the sausages. 

“Come on, Mr. Sausage. When will you be ready? I’m hungry,” Jun wheedles, and Minghao feels a heavy sort of fondness press in on his chest.

He takes a seat opposite Jun, who beams at him just as one of the sausages bursts. Jun’s whole face lights up and any lingering concerns Minghao may have had about buying Jun a hot dog machine vanish. It was definitely worth it.

“Did you hear that?” Jun asks excitedly. “The ‘pow” noise? One of them is ready!”

Minghao smiles helplessly back at Jun, leaning forward and propping his chin up on one hand. He’s not sure what will come out of his mouth if he tries to speak, so he just lets Jun’s steady stream of chatter wash over him. 

Jun eyes the sausages appreciatively and then jolts in his chair. He snaps his fingers and says, “I know what I can do! I can make—I can get—I’ll go get it. Wait here. It’ll be great.”

Minghao watches as Jun hurries over to the cabinets and rummages through them. On his way back, armed with a bowl and some chili flakes, he snaps his fingers again. “How could I forget? We need something to drink. This is an important occasion.”

When he finally returns to the table and sets his bounty down with a flourish, he claps his hands together happily before taking a seat.

“You’re so weird,” Minghao says. “I love you.”

At first, Minghao doesn’t register the heavy silence that falls between them. He’s distracted by what was once a delighted look on Jun’s face, but that slowly morphs into something complicated and unreadable. 

And then there’s a loud pop as another sausage bursts, and Minghao realizes what he just said.

“Oh,” Jun says softly.

“I—” Minghao sits up. 

“How  _ romantic _ ,” Jun grins. His smile stretches so wide and is so warm that Minghao thinks he might be glowing. 

“Oh no. No! Stop! Pay attention to your hot dogs!”

“You’re the hottest though!” Jun insists, and Minghao buries his face in his hands. 

“Shut up.”

“I can’t do that. You’re just so hot. I can’t help it,” Jun continues.

Minghao makes a wordless noise in protest, dropping his head down onto the table. He knows—or he hopes—that Jun knows how he feels about him. He knows he’s more tactile with him now, even though they and their friends have always been a little touchy when it comes to showing affection. He proudly introduces Jun as his boyfriend, partly because it still makes Jun squirm and mostly because he’s happy. Giddy, even. It’s just that Minghao hasn’t said  _ that _ before, not out loud. How it slipped out over a hot dog machine is almost embarrassing, but that doesn’t make the words false.

“For the record,” Jun says, “I love you too.”

Minghao raises his head from the table and sees the flush high on Jun’s cheeks, notes the pleased tilt to his mouth. He’s still embarrassed, but it was worth it. He’s in love.


End file.
